The Diary of Bill the Pony, Citizen of Bree, Pt. 1
by Quietforce
Summary: One of the many unsung equine heroes of Middle-earth...:) heehee.


**The Diary of Bill the Pony, citizen of Bree.** Part 1.   
First account of the _LOTR Equine Edition Thingy That Doesn't Quite Have A Name Yet_   
(When Bill's part of the story is over as he approaches Moria, we will switch to another equinian perspective. Hmmmmm. Who, you'll have to wait and see.)   
by **Quietforce**, aka Ali, alimooka@your-house.com   
_Disclaimer_: I don't own the Lord of the Rings, obviously, the Tolkien Estate does. :) I'm just playing in J.R.R.'s world. 

***** 

**Day 1**

Now, don't you get me wrong. I hate Bill Ferny. I hate him as only a Pony can. But today, I actually laid eyes upon something I hate MORE. SomeTHINGS, I say, because they don't deserve to be recognized as dignified beings. They were the Black Horses of Mordor, and they passed by Bree this day. 

I'm sure you're thinking, "Bill, you've lost it. No food and no attention and all that has gone to your head." But I'm dead serious. 

The evil things saw me in the pasture (why do I even call it a "pasture"? It's nought but dirt and rock. I do hate Bill Ferny. I really do.) and gave me what was SUPPOSED to be this spooky, freaky-deaky glance. Pish-tash. I snorted in their direction and turned my tail, even though to be completely honest, I DID feel a bit of a chill coming 'round. But THEN, as if that wasn't enough - I heard this voice, in my head. No really, it's some devilry out of the Black Land that does it, it simply could NOT have been my imagination, for I would never imagine such things. I'm a dignified being, you know. But anyway, this voice in my head says to me, "Cripple. You are a mockery to the power of His Breed. Why in Middle-earth aren't you dead yet?" With a sneer, too. Just as nasty as you please. 

Now it's not enough that these Black Beasts have terrible hygiene, rotting teeth, filthy stenchy coats and blinkin' NAILS in their hooves, but to throw out THAT sort of irony (what a bad sense of the art of insults, too): I mean, if they're an example of a top-notch equine, I'd take any sort of insult from them as a downright flattering compliment! So that's what I did. Faugh! Beasts of Mordor here. Something is a-stirring. They were heading for the Shire, for what reason Eru knows, but I've no doubt they'll be back. 

This all makes me wonder about my friend Fatty Lumpkin, my only real friend in the outside world. I wonder whatever became of him. Don't suppose I shall ever know. Whatever happens, with Black Horses about, I hope he comes to no evil end. An odd fellow to think about at this time, but I've thought, nonetheless. And anyway, I think I've done quite enough thinking, and I think it's now time for a due bit of rest. Eru knows, I need it. The queerest day, I tell you. _Too_ queer for a Pony like me, to tell you the truth. 

**Day 3**

Well, what do you think about THAT? I'm sold. Sold! For a pretty fine price, too: 12 silver pennies. I'm glad to be out of that wretch Ferny's hands, but really, are these people KIDDING? I'm starved, skinnier than a dead thing, and can't even lift my head up to its right, proud, Pony-height...(I'm admitting this, too...) and they want me to go TRAVELLING? It's crazy talk. But I'm going, anyway. Do I really have a choice? I can only hope this Man, (and those Halflings, too, odd folk though they are) are smarter than they appear. And, as nice as they look. Really. Cross-country Bill needs some FOOD, and carrots and apples wouldn't be too much to give up for a poor hungry fellow, now would it? 

**Day 4**

Who would've thought. The old watchtower of Amon Sul. Only, it's got a terrible air about it that I don't like one bit. 

Things have turned out splendidly (at least, to this point) and I'm feeling much more the Pony I once was. These new masters are kinder than any I have come across yet; am I ever grateful for this turn of fortune! I must admit, though, I'm quite fond of that one little Hafling, the one with the brown mane. Er, whatever you call it on Halflings. Hair? He's the nicest lad of them all. At times I even think he actually understands me. Amazing thought, isn't it? A Halfling understanding a Horse! Pony, really, but you know: we all come from that grand Master Breed. Though I must admit I don't much like the thought of being a Horse; I like the Pony life right enough, well - how it's supposed to go, not with people like Bill Ferny who warp it. Pish. Terrible fellow, Ferny. I hate him still, I really do. 

Anyway. Goodness I stray from the point too often. This place we're at, Amon Sul: "Weathertop" the people call it, but whatever it's named, it has a fell air about it this night. Not so much from the place itself but from something else, like an evil wind has inhabited it and taken up residence. And call me daft but I swear I smell those Beasts again, far off, distant, but it's there. It's an unignorable scent, really, putrid through and through. His Breed. Huh! Superiority complex, I say. They're but twisted mockeries of the Mearas, those glorious lords of Horses. Poor wretches. I almost feel sorry for them. ALMOST, mind you. But enough of that now. I ought to keep watch for these people, I daresay I AM growing fond of all of them. They don't seem so smart, going to sleep and all _now_...can't they feel that something's amiss? At least that one fellow is still awake, the big one - the Man with the long sword. He looks like the sensible type, anyway. He must feel it. At least someone does. I was beginning to think my Pony sanity was giving out on me. Oh but sweet Eru, how I hope it is...how I hope I _am_ wrong! 

//Part 2 later. :) 


End file.
